


afternoon of a faun, interrupted

by Siriusstuff



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Hints of Non-con, M/M, Nymph Stiles Stilinski, Schmoop, Stiles and Derek are kind of ooc but this is fantasy, Wolf Derek Hale, no actual non-con, offender gets comeuppance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 08:50:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4600539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siriusstuff/pseuds/Siriusstuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A horny faun's designs on wood-nymph Stiles leave the former with a probable case of lycophobia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	afternoon of a faun, interrupted

**Author's Note:**

> I was taught you can break writer's block by writing through it. This fic, with some fleeting angst at the start and a lot of unadulterated schmoop at the end, is the result of such an effort.
> 
> I feel like repeating from the tags, there is some very brief talk of a definitely non-consensual nature, but absolutely no non-consensual sex acts occur. Plus, the offender gets what's coming to him. After that there's nothing but shmoop.

Fleet of foot like the minor divinity he was, nothing could have been more shocking to Stiles, as he hurried to his beloved oak tree, than tripping over something he never saw in his path and toppling face first into the grass.

He was a little stunned by the impact, and even more surprised to hear laughter coming from nearby, _very_ nearby.

Lifting his head, looking around, he saw a goat-boy seated on a rock in the shade beneath his oak tree.

It was the goat-boy who laughed, between giant bites from a fistful of grass he chewed noisily, green staining his lips.

"Pretty clumsy for such a pretty nymph," the goat-boy remarked, after swallowing. Then he smiled and Stiles could see his grass-stained teeth.

Stiles sprang upright in a single movement, noting that he, goat-boy and the rock serving as goat-boy’s seat were all enclosed in a fairy ring of fat, pale mushrooms. Stiles had not seen the ring from outside it, nor anything within it, so obviously it was enchanted to invisibility.

"What are you doing here, ugly brute?" Stiles snapped. "This is _my_ oak and you are _not_ welcome near it!"

Goat-boy took another big bite of grass then stuffed what remained of his fistful into his mouth so that his cheeks bulged as he chewed.

Stiles found the sight too disgusting to behold. This faun, satyr, whichever he was, was like any other Stiles had ever seen; he carried, of course, a wine-skin on a belt slung over a shoulder. Along his thighs and all below the goat-boy’s knees he was wooly. At mid-calf another joint was angled the opposite direction of his knees and terminated in huge dirty hooves on the ground.

From his lap poked up a large but vile-looking erection.

Atop goat-boy’s head were two curled horns of a size suggesting he was not very old, as did the meager tuft of beard on his chin. He had elongated, floppy ears but human eyes, to Stiles’s relief. Stiles had seen fauns with goat eyes and they terrified him.

As a little green drool leaked from a corner of goat-boy’s mouth Stiles turned his head. He wanted to just leap upwards into the security of his dear oak’s limbs but as long as he was inside the fairy ring he felt stuck in it.

"Why have you trapped me?" Stiles demanded to know, once goat-boy had wiped his filthy mouth and Stiles could bear to look at him again.

"I wanted company," he replied. "And you’re pretty."

"Don’t your kind usually consort with girl nymphs?" Stiles countered, though the thought of his sisters lying with such as this faun made him queasy.

"And aren’t dryads usually female?" goat-boy fired back, appending immediately, "Seems we’ve both been misled by our elders’ tales."

"Is it your intent to force yourself on me then?" Stiles asked bluntly.

Faun’s held very little magic, so this one had either stolen his or somehow hoodwinked a fairy into giving the goat-boy some of its own.

Furthermore, Stiles’s heart he had pledged to another, a bond whose power he sincerely hoped was reaching his betrothed at that moment, wherever he wandered in the forest, so that he’d arrive while Stiles was still able to keep the goat-boy’s lust at bay.

"Of course not," goat-boy retorted. "I’m going to seduce you," he grinned.

"With what, pray tell?" Stiles sounded astonished. "Your horrid goat stink?"

Goat-boy leaned back, far back, so that his rampant organ, dark red and veiny, was prominently displayed.

Stiles just grimaced, rolled his eyes. From his heart he called out again to his betrothed, _Derek!_

"I’d let an old ram mount me in a dung pile first!" Stiles sneered.

Goat-boy, undaunted, merely sat up again, opened his wine skin and let the drink pour into his wide mouth. He swished around the mouthful before swallowing it.

"Ahh!" he sighed. "Good stuff!" Then he removed from inside his short vest a set of pipes.

"Not the carnal type, I see," goat-boy continued. "But I’ve yet to meet a nymph—even a _boy_ nymph—who could resist—"

The faun set the pipes to his lips and began to blow a melody, clear and sweet as bird song from leafy boughs after the heat of a summer’s day had passed.

The sound struck Stiles’s ears and he shivered. But he was sworn. He would dance for no one but Derek any more.

Still, the mellow tune swept through him with the effect of a spell.

Unfortunately the trunk of Stiles’s oak stood outside the fairy ring. He could not even touch its bark for strength.

"Stop!" Stiles cried, shielding his ears. "Your billy goat’s bleating is dreadful!"

"Liar," the faun replied. He stood and with the pipes back at his lips began to step towards Stiles, stopping his playing only to say, "You _will_ dance for me, pretty nymph, before we fuck."

The resumption of the sweet notes made Stiles strongly desire to lift his arms, sway his slender body. But, finally— _finally!_ —he felt beneath his feet the subtly thundering approach of— _yes!_

Not even through the welter of stolen fairy magic would Earth deceive Stiles. Feeling the music lose its mastery too signaled to him that his love was close.

Stiles turned to see the wolf— _his_ wolf—all coal-black fur, gleaming white fangs, eyes scarlet red, coming in answer to his silent call. When the wolf stopped outside the ring Stiles’s heart stopped too, but the wolf was only shifting back on his haunches, preparing to spring. And spring he did, through the air, over the mushroom ring and right on top of the startled goat-boy who’d been staring astounded since the wolf appeared from amidst the trees moments before.

As soon as the wolf’s body had pierced through the fairy ring’s invisible wall, its magic shattered. Stiles could smell the sweet leaf smell from his precious oak again. He wanted nothing more than to draw in hearty breaths of it but first he had to coax the wolf— _Derek_ —off the fallen goat-boy, who was clamoring whilst he tried to keep his face out of the wolf’s snarling jaws.

"Derek," Stiles said, laughter in his voice. "My love, let him up."

Derek only growled more, a continuous, fierce rumble that threatened imminent mauling. He did not move.

The faun, frozen in place, eyes about to burst from their sockets, had become too terrified to make a sound.

At _that_ Stiles laughed aloud.

"Derek, my love," Stiles cajoled, gently tugging on the abundant neck scruff of his lover in wolf form, "Please let him up so he can leave."

Instead the wolf hunkered down, tilted his head, and intensified his growl with renewed energy. Goat-boy uttered the most pathetic whimpers.

"Oh," Stiles realized, "Derek wants you to apologize to me, you nasty stinking thing."

" _I’m sorry! I’m sorry_ ," goat-boy wailed instantaneously. " _I’m very sorry, nymph! I’m sorry!_ "

Stiles only giggled, crouching down besides his wolf and nuzzling his face in the luxurious fur.

"Derek, my love, the wretch is sorry. Let him go—so we can…" Stiles hummed suggestively to conclude.

Clearly reluctant, the huge wolf lifted himself up, though didn’t stop his growling.

Goat-boy scrambled backwards.

"Slowly," Stiles advised. "He’ll chase you if you run—and I won’t be able to stop him.— _Ugh!_ Did you _wet_ yourself?—As if you didn’t stink enough already, foul thing!"

The goat-boy was still carefully getting to his feet— _hooves_ —his eyes not leaving the wolf.

With his head pressed against black fur Stiles commanded the faun: "Now take your stolen magic and depart." Then he raised his head. "Think again before you decide to snare some nymph with it, you fool."

"I didn’t steal it," the goat-boy whined. He made an upward motion with his right hand, as if he were pulling up some invisible thing. One by one, and all in order, the mushrooms disappeared into the ground. When the last was gone the rock too sank back into the earth.

"A fairy girl gave it to me after I’d left her very satisfied."

The attempt at a boast earned a harsh snap of wolf-Derek’s jaws, with a feinted forward lunge. The goat-boy yelped and leaped backwards.

Stiles slipped his arms from around his wolf, looking as if he were releasing him to run should he choose.

"Leave," he told the goat-boy. "But, by the goddess, do not run until you are over that hill." Stiles pointed to one in the middle distance. "Unless you want wolf fangs in your wooly ass."

"May I retrieve my pipes?" the faun asked with trembling voice but quite politely. His pipes had gone flying when Derek knocked him down.

"Yes, and then be gone!" Stiles snapped, holding back his laughter.

Stiles and wolf-Derek watched the faun squat without turning his back to them as he groped for his pipes in the grass. Then he backed away farther and farther, stumbling at times but keeping his eyes fixed on the wolf.

Stiles grew bored watching the ludicrous retreat, so once again he crouched and resumed petting and nuzzling Derek.

Finally the goat-boy crested the hill, where he turned around and fled down its far side, fast as he could.

Derek relaxed. With a soft whine he nosed at Stiles’s neck, lapping it and then licking Stiles’s cheek. He pressed his weight against Stiles, who sat back on his butt and let Derek’s licks cover his face with wolf-kisses. Stiles winced only a little as the broad tongue left him wetter and wetter.

"This settles it, my beloved," Stiles began, but Derek turned away, and with his nose to the ground wandered back to where the faun had been pinned under him. He sniffed about then walked till he stood over a particular spot. There he lifted a back leg and let loose a stream of piss.

" _Ohh!"_ Stiles groaned. " _Why?"_

Derek came back to Stiles and shifted to human form, a sight so pleasing, since he was naked, Stiles forgot—somewhat at least—his preceding distaste for what Derek the wolf had just done.

"That’s where the faun peed," Derek explained. "I had to—"

"Yes, of course! I understand," Stiles broke in. "And I presume he peed on you as well?"

Looking down at his thighs, Derek answered, "Yes."

"Ugh!" Stiles griped. "Fine. Let’s go to the river."

"Wait. First." Derek leaned in, not letting his body touch Stiles except for his lips.

They kissed, and Stiles felt so happy then he stopped thinking about the malodorous goat-boy and the afternoon’s awful events.

Hand in hand they made their way to the river.

It flowed from a mountain spring, which local folks and forest creatures drank from. Downstream was for the washing of bodies and clothes. Derek let go Stiles’s hand at the bank and jumped, plunging into the waters’ depth at midstream. Stiles loosened and shed his brief girdle of leaves then leaped into Derek’s arms.

Their bathing was more like play as they laughed and splashed.

"To Neptune’s kingdom, my dolphin!" Stiles cried, riding Derek’s back while Derek dove and swam through the crystalline water. When Stiles slid off Derek scooped him up and they clung together, kissing deeply.

Derek returned to wolf-form again before they left the water, because Stiles loved when wolf-Derek shook his coat, head to tail, to dry himself, and Derek loved Stiles’s giddy laughter as he stood in the scattering spray of droplets.

Afterwards they lay side by side on a grassy bank in the sun. Derek, human, turned to his side so that he could look upon his wood-nymph lover. Stiles’s lithe limbs, upturned nose, amber eyes fringed with long lashes, made Derek’s heart throb—and soon enough he felt rather amorous.

Stiles, no fool, noted the lengthening cock prodding against his side. He smirked but felt content, taking Derek’s hand in both of his and pressing it to his heart.

"I was saying before, my love, back there by my oak, we must go to the priestess and stand before her. We must exchange vows and be married."

"We must," Derek agreed, his face close to Stiles’s.

"Then no goat-boy’s enchantments can trap me again," Stiles reminded.

But at the mention of the faun Derek began to growl once more, from his human throat. Stiles giggled.

"Shh! I don’t think _that_ goat-boy will venture into this part of the forest ever again—and he may never pursue another dryad for fear they have a wolf mate!"

Stiles rolled so that he faced Derek. He stroked his fingers through Derek’s black hair, glistening in the sunlight.

"So shall we be mingled together, my wolf?"

Derek responded with kisses of increasing ardor before he answered, "Yes, yes. Let us be mingled _,_ Stiles."

He rolled again, onto his back, this time pulling the nymph atop himself. His large hands stroked down Stiles’s smooth back, stopping cupped round his firm little butt cheeks.

Stiles, giggling still, wondered aloud, " _I_ meant mingling our souls.—What kind of mingling do _you_ have in mind?" though he knew perfectly well what kind.

"Souls _and_ bodies," Derek grinned.

"This is a fine place for our dalliance, master wolf, where the birds, foxes and whoever’s lurking in the leaves can watch? Is that what you’d like?"

"We can go to my den, soul of my soul.—Or do you wish to go to the priestess first?" Derek asked.

Feeling Derek’s hard length as well as his own pressed between them, Stiles answered, "In our current state we’ll be more welcomed by the priestess of Aphrodite than the priestess of my maiden lady Artemis."

Derek’s wide eyes and raised eyebrows indicated Stiles had not answered the question.

Stiles dropped more kisses on Derek’s face and, once close to his ear, whispered, "To your den then."

Derek stood with Stiles still holding onto him, his arms round Derek’s neck, his legs wrapped round his waist.

As Derek walked them away from the riverside Stiles kept talking.

"It would be proper the priestess be informed of our intentions before we just appear at her temple door," Stiles instructed. "And we’ll need to make an offering— _and_ we need to prepare the vows we’ll speak."

"I know what I’m vowing," Derek said, smiling confidently.

"You do?"

"I vow to love you always, to stand beside you in all things, to be your faithful mate and your steadfast protector, to—"

Derek was cut off by Stiles’s hold suddenly turning to tight hug round his neck as he latched their mouths together.

Standing still, after returning equally passionate kisses, Derek advised, "It’s a long walk to my den. We’d best hurry if you do not want the forest witness to our love-making, my Stiles."

Stiles, mute with love and desire, just nodded. Derek clapped the nymph’s face between his hands to leave a momentarily final human kiss on Stiles’s lips. He stepped back and before the eyes of his lover shifted to full wolf form once more. Stiles climbed onto the wolf’s back, reclining forward, bracing himself as he had learned to do through many a wolf-back ride before. Feeling Stiles securely in place wolf-Derek bounded through the trees, along paths only the four-footed could traverse, to his den, their love-nest, the sighs and thrilled laughs of his wood-nymph beloved ringing in his ears.


End file.
